


I Had Better Not See Jim Kirk's Face in My Sick Bay Today

by circletrapped



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, and then my brain was like mmmmmm jim kirk, call kirk and bones demons because they are some HORNY BOYS, i started with the intention of just like four thousand words of mccoy being a bitch, jeSUS guys in the suggested things for that one, kids could you lighten up a little????, literally i did nOT mean for this to even turn into slash, profanity warning, you know as one does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circletrapped/pseuds/circletrapped
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	I Had Better Not See Jim Kirk's Face in My Sick Bay Today

The chime of the Enterprise's alarm was supposed to be gentle. It was supposed to gently guide you out of your dream. It was supposed to invite a warm morning greeting that would silence it.

_Supposed to._

But for Leonard McCoy, a bucket of cold water to the head would be _far_ preferable. After more than three years of hearing it every damn morning, the stupid thing did nothing but get on his nerves.

"Al _right,_ I'm up, dammit!" he snarled, causing the "pleasant" melody to abruptly cease. Instead of heaving his comforter off and sliding out of bed, however, he brought his hands to his eyes and slowly dragged them down his face. When he slammed them back down at his sides, he groaned rather loudly. He did _not_ want to show his face in Sick Bay again after what had happened the day before. Just the memory was enough for a sickly feeling to grow in his stomach.

Lieutenant Commander Scott had been showing off a new piece of equipment to the Captain and his First Officer down in Engineering before it happened. The piece of equipment, which had some kind of function that went about a kilometre over McCoy's head, happened to have extremely sharp edges. This was something of which Spock was abundantly aware - unfortunately, the Ensign that was also in the room wasn't aware of one damn thing. She had walked right into the back of Spock, causing him to lose his grip and have to quickly readjust his hold on the object before it could fall, not wanting to risk breaking it. This had resulted in a rather large gash being torn through Spock's hand.

It was one thing seeing Spock walk into Sick Bay alongside the captain with a green substance dripping down his arm.

It was another seeing Captain Kirk strolling in with no shirt on.

Not only that, but a shit-eating smirk tugging at the end of his lips as he caught the doctor staring at his bare chest. His shirt was pressed against Spock's right hand and was being stained a dark green. _Damn that pointed-eared menace and his low blood pressure,_ McCoy had thought. Maybe if Spock didn't lose so much blood every time he was so much as pricked with a needle, Jim wouldn't have needed to put McCoy through such hell.

Of course, when Spock sat down on the medical table and removed the shirt, the blood didn't rush out as badly as McCoy had anticipated. The stain on the shirt was minuscule upon closer examination. _That son of a bitch._ Sure enough, when McCoy shot a glance at Jim, he saw that smirk deepen. _Doesn't he realize that we're both_ _on duty?!_

The distraction of a shirtless captain hovering over the Vulcan's shoulder as McCoy was cauterizing the wound was most certainly _not_ welcome. And when Jim crossed his arms behind his back and flexed in order to pop his spine, McCoy's hands slipped and the laser went blazing across his left index finger.

_"Shit!"_

He looked like a fool, waving his hand about like a deranged conductor. Before either Kirk, Spock, or Chapel could even _think_ about asking if he was okay, he demanded silence from everyone in the room while he finished closing Spock's wound. He sent Chapel to retrieve a wrap for Spock's hand before realizing that there was a roll on the table next to him. Not wanting to bother with calling her back into the room, he wrapped up Spock's hand and sent him out of his Sick Bay.

He had expected Jim to trot after his Vulcan companion so that McCoy could run his finger over some cool water to reduce some of the swelling it had started to undergo.

That was not what happened.

McCoy and Jim were the only two that remained in the room. Jim's stained shirt was draped over the table that held McCoy's tools, and obviously he had no intention on putting it back on. Jim walked to the space between the table and McCoy and began to raise his hand. Instead of grabbing the shirt and going about his business, however, he snatched McCoy's wrist and used his thumb to point his palm upward. McCoy reflexively closed his fist, though he _was_ consciously thinking about punching the smug bastard in the nose. Jim's thumb pressed harder and the rest of his fingers trailed up the back of McCoy's hand. He looped his index finger under McCoy's burnt finger to prop it up. He stepped closer and tilted his head up as he inspected the scar that was already beginning to form. With Jim so close, heat flared underneath the shirt of McCoy's uniform, which (unlike Jim) he was still wearing because he was a _sensible_ doctor who would _not_ fuck the captain in the Sick Bay.

 _"That doesn't look so good."_ The way Jim's eyes flicked up into McCoy's with an expression that mocked concern was enough to make his stomach drop. McCoy hadn't even been able to bring himself to tear his eyes away for the purposes of making sure that nobody could see the borderline obscene act from the captain. _"As limited as my medical knowledge may be, especially in comparison to yours, I think I know the cure for this sort of thing."_

It was an innocuous act. It was the simplest of sensations. The pressing of Jim's lips to the tip of his finger was _not_ supposed to make McCoy fail to choke back a soft moan.

The combination of McCoy having been _so_ pent up, Jim's blatant seduction, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins from the accident would have been enough for him to violate _several_ Starfleet regulations if it hadn't been from a shriek of witch-like cackling from Nurse Chapel, whom he had failed to notice re-enter the room. McCoy had quickly slammed his unoccupied palm against Jim's chest and shoved him out of the way so he could sprint to his quarters with absolutely no intention of coming back out.

The twinge in McCoy's finger was enough to bring him back to reality. He looked down and realized that, rather than staying put at his sides, his hands had come together. Not only that, but he had been running his thumb across the burn mark. His hands were just barely trembling.

"Fuck's sake," he muttered, separating his hands at once. "I just need to eat something, that's all."

_Excuses._

He huffed and quickly stood to grab a uniform from his closet, refusing to give yesterday's events any more attention.

That lasted about forty-three minutes. He made it through a frigid shower that left no room for wandering thoughts. Pulling on his uniform presented no issues. Fooling around with his hair until it would finally keep still was more annoying than anything else. He was lucky enough not to bump into anyone in the hall or have to share the turbolift with anyone on his way to the Sick Bay. It was starting to seem as though he wouldn't be bothered by the incident for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, the foreseeable future ended when the door to Sick Bay opened and revealed Nurse Chapel, who immediately flashed a menacing grin in his direction. Her wicked laughter rang through McCoy's ears once more. He immediately held up a finger.

"Not a word, Nurse. Not one. What ever you think you saw, you didn't. What ever you think happened, it never did. Nothing ever happened, ever. So don't tell anyone about the thing that _never happened._ Do you understand?"

Chapel giggled.

"Of course, Doctor. Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps some ointment for the burn on your finger?"

"Yes, Nurse, that would be-" McCoy processed the sentence and straightened, shooting Chapel an ice-cold glare. "Just get me a coffee, will you?"

Chapel quickly turned on her heel and walked out of the main part of Sick Bay with a quick pace. McCoy could have sworn he heard a sharp snort as she crossed the threshold. He let out a harsh sigh and walked to his office, throwing himself into his chair with nearly enough force to snap it in half. Not long after, Chapel came in and set a steaming cup of black coffee on his desk.

"Thank you," McCoy muttered, still not entirely recovered from the trauma of being caught with Jim red-handed. Chapel hummed and turned to leave. "Nurse."

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I had better not see Jim Kirk's face in my Sick Bay today."

Chapel nodded and left McCoy's office. McCoy took the cup in his hand and brought it to his lips. As he took a sip, he couldn't help but cringe inwardly. Sure, it was hot. It had caffeine and a strong aroma, but replicator coffee could never hold up to real Earth coffee. There simply was no alternative. He slumped into his chair and sighed once more, this time more wistful than anything else. He was grateful to have a morning where he walked into an empty Sick Bay for once. A slow day in the doctor's office is a good one, as they say. It was a prime opportunity for McCoy to be alone with his thoughts.

Thoughts about _Jim._

They had first taken up together at the Academy. It had hardly been romantic, no, it was more just the fact that neither of them could score a date otherwise and the rigorous curriculum of Starfleet education left them with a need to blow off some steam, often together.

**_dude i need to get FUCKED right now_ **

The message would reach McCoy at the end of most weeks.

**_Yeah me too, on my way_ **

Other times, study sessions would get particularly tense. When they decided they couldn't comprehend another word of their study material, they would switch to something a little more enjoyable. Their sexual involvement never grew into an actual exclusive relationship.

But when they started working together on the Enterprise, things shifted. The night that McCoy was finally able to brag about landing a starship captain was the first time they had actually bothered with kissing - something they hadn't even touched at the Academy for fear of contaminating their stress-reliever with feelings. Following that, Jim had become much more affectionate, but in subtle ways. He would rest his elbow on his shoulder while speaking to him. He would take extra care in helping him straighten his uniform. He would press a kiss against McCoy's lips to wake him up in the morning if one had spent the night in the other's quarters.

McCoy was nowhere as outwardly affectionate as Jim. He did, however, find that he was more concerned about Jim's well-being than would typically be warranted from a friends-with-benefits kind of relationship. In other words, Jim was a complete disaster and McCoy had to keep him alive. His fondness would usually manifest itself in the form of asking Jim if he'd eaten or slept. He'd help him with any kinks in his back. He'd bring him hot coffee when he was working late and his had gotten stone cold. That, of course, was just the tip of the iceberg. As much as he hid it behind a sheet of snipping and sarcasm, he had a soft spot for Jim, and Jim knew it.

McCoy heard the door to Sick Bay opened and practically leapt out of his seat from being startled out of his thoughts. He set down his coffee and walked out of his office to see Lieutenant Uhura clutching her right ear and muttering a string of curses with her eyes on the ground. McCoy couldn't help the amused smile that formed on his face. She was usually so composed that seeing her angry was a treat (unless it was directed at him).

"May I help you, Lieutenant?" he asked. She looked up and gave a sheepish chuckle.

"I didn't see you, Doctor. We intercepted a rather _loud_ bout of static, which went right to my earpiece. I'm not entirely sure I can hear out of this side anymore." McCoy gestured to an observation table, which she gently sat herself down on. "Mister Scott said he could hear it from across the Bridge."

"That's not something I'd recommend prolonged exposure to. How long did it last?"

"It was about four seconds before I got over the shock and finally got the sense to take it out. I think the ringing is just as loud, though."

"Lemme run a-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the doors slid open once again. In walked Jim, thankfully fully clothed this time. McCoy's eyes narrowed.

"Lord have mercy," he grumbled. He turned away from Jim. "Nurse, can you help Uhura with her ear, please? I need to deal with something."

McCoy heard Chapel's footsteps behind him as he walked towards Jim, arms folded across his chest. "What do you want?"

"Doctor, Doctor, Doctor," Jim purred as he lifted himself up onto a medical bed. "I'm afraid I'm coming down with a fever."

McCoy huffed and put a hand against Jim's forehead. Certainly not a temperature.

"You're fine, Jim. Go back up to the Bridge and let me do my job."

Jim laid backwards and stretched, exposing a small stripe of skin below the hem of his shirt. _Are his pants lower than usual?_ Jim cleared his throat, making McCoy painfully aware that he'd been staring. A blush seared across his face.

"Now, Bones, I think you need to work on your bedside manner."

"I think you need to get the hell outta my Sick Bay."

Jim's eyes drooped. "C'mon, Bones." His wrists were now above his head, one laid over the over. "Can't you at least check me out?"

_This man is flirting like a teenager! Has he lost his damn mind?!_

McCoy attempted his best fake grin, as if he'd actually been charmed by the Captain. Make no mistake, this kind of flirting didn't turn him off, it was just highly unorthodox, especially when there were _two other people in the room._

"You're right," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Maybe I'd better run a _psych eval._ "

Tittering laughter burst out from the ladies on the other side of the room, making it obvious they had been eavesdropping. McCoy whipped his head in their direction and dropped his brows. Chapel very quickly placed her hands over her ears for a moment and turned back to Uhura, still grinning but talking about treatments for her ear when she put them down.

Jim put his arms back to his sides and sat up. When McCoy looked back at his face, Jim was very clearly pouting.

"You're no fun, you know that?"

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" McCoy hissed, not wanting to be overheard. Jim's pout simply deepened.

"It's been two weeks," he whined, elongating the last word beyond necessity. McCoy rolled his eyes.

"You can take care of that on your own time, you know."

"You think I'd be bothering you so much if I could?"

"What's stopping you?"

"You've got a point." Jim began to reach down toward his pants, prompting McCoy to swiftly smack him upside the head. Jim threw his head back and laughed. "I wasn't actually gonna do it!"

"You really _are_ crazy, aren't you, Jim?"

"I know it hasn't exactly been easy on you, either. Has it?"

He was right. The last two weeks had been nothing but late nights and separate shifts. McCoy had been on a completely separate sleep schedule from the captain, meaning that they'd had no time together. By the end of their work periods, they'd be too exhausted to do much of anything before collapsing on the bed. It lead to irritability, sensitivity, lack of focus: all the symptoms of being devastatingly horny. McCoy gave a deep sigh.

"No, it hasn't," he conceded. "We _really_ need to find a good time, don't we?"

"An excellent idea, Doctor!" Jim chimed, a smile of pure excitement painted across his face. McCoy couldn't help but return a small grin at the sight, which he quickly accompanied with an eye roll. "How does dinner sound? My quarters, 1900?"

"I'll be there. Is there anything else you needed while you're here?"

"I just wanted to see if your burn was any better."

_"Get outta my Sick Bay!!"_

The morning was truly a prime example of the adage, calm before the storm. After Uhura came in so many others with such small, petty issues. Sulu bruised his arm during a workout (though he'd come in claiming he'd sprained it - an exaggeration, to be sure). Chekhov had a headache from staring at his monitor for so long - the fix to which ended up not even needing medication. Scotty pinched his finger between his leg and a console, resulting in minor swelling that he had mistaken for a broken bone. As McCoy was dealing with logging their visits he found himself wondering how the senior staff of the Enterprise had become so soft.

Then he found the connection: they all somehow took notice of the very small line across his index finger and asked what had happened to it. This realization was almost enough for McCoy to transport himself into the middle of space. At this rate, the entire crew would know about the incident before he met Jim for dinner. McCoy looked at a clock.

**1924**

"Oh, shit!"

Not only had his shift ended an hour and a half ago, he was very, very late to his appointment with a certain starship captain.

By the time he arrived in Jim's quarters, it looked like he was asleep. Why else would he be splayed out across the bed, hands behind his head and-

_Oh._

Dinner had, in fact, been an euphemism. _That's a shame, I didn't actually get around to eating much today._

"How nice of you to finally join me, Doctor."

"Sorry, Jim, I-"

"Ah-ah, no excuses. Come here."

McCoy felt his throat go dry as he apprehensively walked over to Jim's bed. Figuring that his being late had already been frustrating enough, he was hasty in swinging one of his legs to land in between Jim's and laying right on his chest. Jim wrapped an arm around him and rested his hand on the small of McCoy's back. He let his head fall and took in a moment of quiet in which only the rhythmic beating of Jim's heart could be heard. Time seemed to slow as they laid there, not daring to move a muscle.

"I'm actually really comfortable; I don't feel like moving."

"Oh, thank God," Jim breathed, almost a laugh. "It's been such a long day and I'm so tired. I was actually kinda relieved when you didn't show up."

McCoy chuckled and buried his head deeper into Jim's chest. "We could always pick this up tomorrow." Jim ran his other hand through McCoy's hair.

"Sounds good."

...

"The whole crew's talkin' 'bout us now," McCoy mumbled. He felt Jim lightly shrug.

"We'll deal with that in the mornin', too."

"Whaddaya mean, 'too'?"

"You don't really want me to keep you waiting much longer, do you?"

McCoy laughed.

"Guess not. G'night, Jim," he whispered, his eyes seemingly glued shut.

"Night, Bones," Jim returned, leaning down to place a light kiss on the top of the bridge of McCoy's nose.


End file.
